


The space between

by ca_te



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has an economics degree but he has decided to work in a small bookstore. When people ask him why he has made this choice he always answers that he has been <i>waiting</i>, he has been feeling this way all his life. When one day a blond man enters the shop Merlin has the sensation that his waiting has come to an end. Will it be true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story is rated NC-17, but this chapter is PG-13.
> 
> Thanks to icequeenrex who gave me the idea, to zafra who shown me a new perspective on the story and read it and thanks to kind archaeologist_d for the beta<3  
> Also the title is taken from the song by Dave Matthews Band :)

Outside the morning is _caressing_ ; the roofs when Merlin’s alarm clock rings. He moans and hides himself under the blankets. The alarm clock rings again and he opens his eyes. He looks at the azure light surrounding him under the blankets for a while. Then he kicks the sheets away and swings his legs over the edge of the mattress.

 

He passes a hand through his hair as he waits for the coffee to be ready. He doesn’t remember what he has dreamt of. He shrugs. Mornings are not his favourite part of the day. Well, he used to like them when he had someone whom he could wake up with.

It didn’t last much with Gwaine, though. They’ve remained good friends; they go out together now and then and sometimes he crashes at Merlin’s place but they don’t touch each other or kiss each other any more.

 

*

 

Gwaine was one of his mates back at university. He had also been the first with whom Merlin had managed to relate since he had moved to London. He’d been there since the beginning of August and he had spent the month before university started walking around the city or watching old movies in old cinemas and working as a waiter in a small pub in Camden Town.

He hadn’t really made friend with anyone except for his flatmate Gwen. She was a nice girl, she studied modern literature and her room was full with books.

 

Merlin had met Gwaine on his first week of courses at the faculty of economics. Merlin thought that he was nice at the start. He was funny and sweet and it didn’t take much for Merlin to fall for him. It had been Gwaine who had asked him out. Merlin’s heart had bubbled with joy.

But with time it turned out that something was missing. Merlin kept thinking that he had to wait for the right one, for <i>his</i> right one. Gwaine was hurt at first. He didn’t answer Merlin’s calls for a month. Then one night he rang the doorbell, a couple of beers in his left hand and an apologetic smile on his face. He told Merlin that he had needed some time alone and that he had decided that it made no sense to be angry and it didn’t make sense to let a person like Merlin slip out of his life. Merlin smiled and moved aside to let Gwaine in.

 

*

 

Years passed since their first year of university; they’re both finished with it now. Gwaine works in the City and he always complains about the suits that he has to wear. Merlin decided that numbers and offices weren’t made for him. Thanks to Gwen’s help he has found a job in a small bookshop run by Gwen’s girlfriend, Morgana. Many would find her scary, but Merlin has felt at ease with her since the beginning. It hasn’t been difficult for him to spot her frailty and kindness under the surface of humour and coldness.

 

The shop is small but cosy and Merlin likes to spend his time there. He likes to help people to find the book they’re looking for or to give advices. What he likes the most, though, is the fact that during his break he can sit in the back-shop, a mug of cappuccino in his hand and a good book in the other.

 

Once Morgana has asked him what he was doing there, why he had accepted to work as a salesman in a small bookshop instead of following Gwaine and use his freaking degree somehow. Merlin has looked at her and smiled. She wasn’t the first to ask him that question. He actually still doesn’t know the answer. He simply knows that he has to wait, right here. Because what he has been waiting for will arrive and then everything will make sense. It sounds like a fairytale but deep inside he truly believes it. What if he leaves, changes his life and loses the right connection, the right train? He can’t afford that.

 

So he stays. It’s hard sometimes, when he sits in his room, in front of the window and looks at the dark and clouded sky outside. He watches the rain falling down and wonders how long he has still to wait and how he is going to realise when his waiting has ended. Maybe he won’t even realise it.

 

*

 

It’s a lazy afternoon and there haven’t been many customers. Merlin sits at the counter scribbling in his Moleskin. He chews at his lower lip in concentration; it has been months since he last wrote something and he really hopes that inspiration would be merciful this time. Then someone clears his throat in front of him. The pen sinks deeper in the paper. He lifts his gaze. He takes in the blond boy standing in front of him. Merlin can’t help but think that he is one of the most beautiful men he has ever met. There’s something about him; it’s as if he feels pulled in by his gaze, by the way he holds himself. Merlin swallows trying to regain control over his brain.

 

“Earth to…”

 

Merlin watches as the boy leans forward. He is sure that he is blushing and he curses himself for being such a girl.

 

“Earth to _Merlin._ ”

 

Merlin is sure that he has never heard his name pronounced in such a tone. He quickly snaps out of his reverie; he straightens and tilts his chin up.

 

“May I help you, _sir_?”

 

He feels proud of himself when the boy blinks. He seems taken aback; the bastard is quick to recover, though. In few seconds he is already leaning against the counter, looking exactly like the <i> prat</i> he is. He says that he is looking for a Wilbur Smith book. Merlin doesn’t even try to be surprised. Boring, ordinary. He gestures for the boy to follow him. He doesn’t check to see whether he is actually following him or not. He walks past piles of books and twists around shelves until he, effortlessly, finds the section that he’d been looking for. He quickly brushes his fingertips over the spines of some books and then picks up one of them. Turning smoothly, he hands it to the blond. The boy is looking at him intently. Merlin looks down at his blue Converse and mumbles, “Do you need something else?” The guy says no.

 

Merlin tries not to think too much about why he shivers when his hand brushes against the man’s when he passes him the bag. He nods a goodbye and it’s then that the guy flashes him a small smile. Merlin feels his heart doing something weird against the bones of his ribcage. He lowers his gaze quickly and when he lifts it again, the boy is gone.

 

He tries to focus on putting price tags on the last arrivals. He lets his fingers run over the cover of “Kafka on the shore” by Murakami Haruki. He feels a sensation close to longing bubble up inside his chest. It happens to him often, to feel as if he is missing something that he doesn’t remember- he misses someone.

 

The first time he realised it, he was just a boy. It was a rainy afternoon and he was sitting on the floor in his room. He was watching the rain drops as they stained the glass. All at once he felt like a lost bird, stunned, because he knew what that muffled feeling lying at the back of his mind most of the time was. He could read it clearly in the grey streams painted by the rain on his window. He missed someone; he couldn’t quite make out his contours in his mind, but he felt that presence hovering behind him. It felt like someone whom he’d abandoned a long time ago.

 

After that afternoon, he was constantly aware of a missing piece in the puzzle of his life. There was nothing he could do about it, no one with whom he could fall in love, who could wash that sensation away. So he simply accepted it, as a part of his being. It was there and it would remain there so it was useless to try to deny it.

 

Merlin sighs, puts the book back on the shelf and goes on with work. It’s just a couple of hours later that Morgana pops inside the shop to check the day’s returns. She smiles gently at Merlin and motions for him to come closer. Merlin leans over the counter and smiles as she hands him a bottle of Heineken.

 

“I shouldn’t drink at work, you know?”

 

Morgana grins, her teeth shining white between the dark red of her lips.

 

“Oh but if it is your boss to bring you the alcohol?”

 

Merlin laughs. He finally feels relaxed for the first time after the encounter with the blond. It has left him uncertain and filled with longing but laughing with Morgana and talking about the last book they’ve read is soothing and it grounds him again.

 

When he leaves the shop, the sky is already dark blue. Looking up, he feels it wide and open above his head. It gives him the sensation that something is about to change. He doesn’t want to be alone at home tonight. As he waits for the bus he fishes the mobile phone out of his pocket. He types Gwaine’s number with a smile on his lips. When the other boy answers he can almost picture his soft smile. It is something precious and familiar and Merlin knows that he will never give it up. Gwaine is the first boy with whom he had been involved and with whom he managed to keep a relationship afterwards. It hadn’t been like that with Will. When Merlin left for London,  after a few months he’d spilt up with him because Gwaine had just came stumbling into his life.

 

“Fancy Chinese at my place tonight?”

 

“Well, you pay right?”

 

Merlin chuckles and tilts his head back just as an airplane paints a long white line overhead.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He turns on one side and cracks his eyes open. He can’t see the alarm clock because of a mop of brown. He smiles gently before patting Gwaine’s hair earning a low mumble from the other man. Merlin laughs quietly and then props himself up on one elbow. The red numbers say that it’s still 7 am. He yawns thinking that he probably could go back to bed and sleep for a while more, but then remembers that Gwaine has to be up shortly to go to work. He forces himself to get up and to make him coffee.

 

It has been some time since he and Gwaine had split up, since they had woken naked in each other arms, and yet this doesn’t feel less right, to have Gwaine here, to look at him over a mug of coffee in the morning. It’s weird how his simple presence can calm him down, make him focus.

 

The rest of the week stretches out quickly in between the work and a good night of chatting and watching old movies with Gwen and Morgana.

 

On Saturday afternoon he is sipping a coffee which Freya, the other shop assistant, has brought him when the door swings open. Merlin doesn’t lift his gaze from the magazine that he’s reading and yet something knots up inside his chest. He would swear that someone just gripped the front of his t-shirt and pulled him but there’s no one in front of the counter. He blinks and tries to swallow the hard lump in his throat. Finally he lifts his gaze and spots _him_. Merlin shakes his head slightly but he doesn’t manage to tear his eyes off the blonde who’s casually walking through the isles. He loses sight of him for an instant but then he spots him again, a mass of golden hair in front of the “foreign literature” section.

 

He quickly puts up a show of reading an article about gardening when the boy starts to walk up to the counter.

 

“Hello, Merlin.”

 

Merlin blinks at the printed words before straightening up to look at the man. His azure eyes are shining with amusement and his lips are curved in a grin. Merlin swallows and tries to say to himself that, no, he doesn’t find him attractive and that his heart is not currently trying to break free from his ribcage for apparently unknown reasons.

 

“Hello, _sir_. May I help you?”

 

He has to force his tongue to collaborate in order to push out the words. He unconsciously takes a step back as the man leans more over the counter.

 

“I was wondering if you could suggest a good book?”

 

He nods and moves from behind the table.

 

“Do you have a favourite genre?”

 

“I told you that I wanted <i>you</i> to suggest something if I’m not mistaken.”

 

Merlin doesn’t even have to turn to know that the not-so-stranger-anymore is probably sporting one of his wide grins.

 

It starts like that, with the man, who after another visit Merlin discovers is named Arthur- what a joke, indeed- coming to the bookshop almost every Saturday. At first Merlin struggles to convince himself that he doesn’t care.

 

Then on a chilly Saturday afternoon, Merlin spends hours trying to keep his eyes focussed on the magazine open in front of him but can’t help looking around now and then and he can’t prevent his heart beating wildly every time the bell above the door rings. Arthur doesn’t come. Merlin keeps telling himself that it is not the reason why he managed to type the prices badly five times in a row or drunk way too much coffee. He phones Gwaine to pick him up and for the rest of the evening his friend’s jokes and quite a few glasses of beer help him set his thoughts free at least for the night.

 

He definitely doesn’t feel warmer inside when the next Saturday Arthur is at the shop again, casually going through a Banana Yoshimoto’s book. It becomes something natural to have the blond hanging around during the week end. Slowly, almost without noticing it, Merlin starts to laugh at his jokes and to offer him coffee or tea when there’s some in the back-shop. Sometimes Arthur remains for hours. The first time Merlin asked him, oh so very politely, if he didn’t have anywhere else to be. Arthur had shrugged and told him that he liked the quietness of the place when Merlin wasn’t babbling nonsense. With that, it was settled. Coming to the shop so often, Arthur even met both Morgana and Gwen and Merlin has had to endure their questioningly gazes. They have cornered him more than once, asking him about “the blond” who seems to come to the shop only to see him. Thank God, he has always managed to escape without revealing too much.

 

The first to understand that something is truly off with him is Gwaine, though. They’re sitting under a tree in Hyde Park after a picnic on a Sunday afternoon. Merlin is leaning down, arms behind his head, looking at the branches over his head. He thinks about the way Arthur waved good bye the previous day, about the persistent glint in his eyes. He doesn’t hear Gwaine calling him at first. The air escapes from his lungs as his friend lands on top of him.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“You wouldn’t pay attention to me, otherwise.”

 

Merlin chuckles but then spots something in Gwaine’s eyes and falls silent. He already knows where this conversation is going to end up. He doesn’t even know why he hasn’t already told him about Arthur, about how his thoughts seem to focus on the guy so much.

 

“You’re up to something, right?”

 

Merlin is tempted to shake his head but Gwaine is his closest friend and even if they’ve shared something more complicated than friendship Merlin knows that he can talk to him, that he <i>needs</i> too, because the brunette definitely is one of the people who know him best. He doesn’t say much, there’s nothing much to say indeed. Gwaine listens intently, though, and gently ruffles his messy hair when he finished. His hand is warm as the sun and the grass. Merlin pushes slightly into the touch.

\---

The first time that Arthur asks him out Merlin spends the night awake, a stupid grin plastered on his face, tossing around in his bed. He texts Gwain but he doesn’t answer. Merlin thinks that probably he is out dancing with Leon and Percy. Still the thought doesn’t prevent him from wanting him there.

\---

It’s Saturday night. Merlin has just locked the door of the shop and is leaning against it. He has decided to keep his gaze fixed on the black lines of the high tension wires. He doesn’t want to keep staring at the end of the road, waiting for Arthur to turn the corner. He manages to count three airplanes cutting through the orange of the sky before he hears footsteps approaching along the pavement.

 

“You make a fine <i>princess</i> like that, Merlin.”

 

Merlin wants to reply something witty but, as he lowers his gaze, the words get lost in his throat. Arthur is standing in front of him, a genuine smile curving his lips and a warm light dancing in his eyes. For an instant Merlin almost thinks that he had met him before, that he had already fallen in love with this guy. But then a car passes and the movement of the air brings him back to reality, to the present where he is about to go out with a guy with whom he has just met few weeks before.

\---

He didn’t expect such a turn in his relationship with Arthur even if he can’t deny that he had fantasized about it; usually this kind of thing happens only in movies like “Notting Hill”. On one day Arthur waited until closing time; Merlin eyed him suspiciously from over the cash desk, but the blond had just shrugged and kept padding around. Some sort of balance had managed to grow between them; it was as if the angles in Merlin’s nature fit perfectly the holes in Arthur’s, like pieces of a familiar puzzle.

 

Still he didn’t forsee the way Arthur waited for him to close the door of the shop and accompanied him to the bus stop. The way he had rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands in his pockets, looking like an unsure teenager. Surely he couldn’t say that he knew Arthur well, but it wasn’t the picture that he had had of him; he totally seemed the kind of guy who was sure of himself. Yet a blush had crept over Arthur’s cheeks when he finally had managed to ask Merlin if he wanted to go out for a drink after work.

Merlin had tried to process the words, keeping his eyes glued to the approaching lights of the bus. The doors had opened in front of him and his “alright” had been almost swallowed by the sound of them closing again. He had gone back home feeling as if he were floating a foot above the ground. He had never felt like that, not even with Gwaine, not even when they used to play around like overgrown puppies years before.

\---

It’s surprisingly nice to spend the evening out with Arthur. Soho is full of light and music and people and Arthur seems to shine through it all. They’ve slowly grown accustomed to each other over the past few weeks but it’s the first time that Merlin sees him outside the bookshop; the first time that he actually sees him as a human being and not as a creature of his imagination, of that dark place inside him where he keeps all his life-long desires. They keep talking and talking over their glasses of gin lemon and Arthur’s voice seems to mingle perfectly with the music and with the half light of the pub.

 

Arthur drives him home, Merlin looks at the lights flowing outside like a stream, the street lamps and the neon signs. He feels as if he is bathing in warm water. Arthur wishes him good night and kisses him on the cheek. His lips are slightly wet and soft. Merlin smiles and gets out of the car. When he is in his room, safe under the blankets he wonders how it would have been like if Arthur had kissed him. If it would be like kissing Gwaine- all pent-up energy and gentle arms holding him in place- or if it would be completely different.

As the night rolls softly on, he doesn’t even try to deny how much he wants to <i>feel</i> Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

“You should do something, you know?”

 

Merlin glares at Gwaine as he flails his hands around, the fork that he is holding threatening to escape from his grip.

 

“Something for what?”

 

He takes a sip of coffee and waits for Gwaine to stop munching a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

 

“For that guy, Arthur, isn’t it?”

 

Merlin is sure that he has never been so close to suffocate while sipping coffee. He keeps his eyes glued to the surface of the kitchen table as he speaks.

 

“And…and what do you think I should do?”

 

Gwaine’s laugh splashes like sunshine over their breakfast.

 

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe try to make him understand that you spend every fucking moment thinking about him?”

 

Merlin can feel heat blossoming under his skin. Thing is that he truly doesn’t know how to do it. He certainly can’t go to Arthur and simply tell him that, yes, he is almost sure that he could be his soul mate!

 

“I…I don’t know how to do that…”

 

Gwaine tilts his head to the side and covers Merlin’s hand with his own.

 

“I know it might sound stupid, but really just be yourself, Merl. You…you’re <i>special</i> simply like that.”

 

Merlin turns his hand so that his and Gwaine’s palms are touching. Sometimes he feels as if the other man is his personal anchor.

 

“Thanks, man.”

\---

Merlin looks at the lights under him, the city seems a luminous carpet. It might seems absurd but during all the years he has spent in London he has never been on the London Eye. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that it took Arthur to make him experience the feeling of floating in the night air like this. It makes him dizzy but the solid warmth of Arthur’s tight against his own makes him feel safe. It seems as if Arthur has managed to make Merlin feel like this so many times already even though they’ve gone out together only few times yet.

He swallows and turns to face Arthur.

 

“So, uhm…I’ve been thinking…”

 

Arthur quirks a blond eyebrow and leans back into the seat. Merlin can’t see his face well in the half-light.

 

“And?”

 

Merlin balls his hands into fists, trying to subdue his beating heart. There’s a part of his brain which tells him that he should still wait, but there’s a part of his heart which knows how true Gwaine’s words were. And as always his traitorous heart is the one that wins.

 

The whole world seems to sway, the lights and the night sky, as Merlin leans forward. Arthur smiles before grabbing the front of Merlin’s t-shirt to pull him closer. Before his mind shuts down completely Merlin manages to think that maybe this is how it feels to fall into a black hole. Then there is no space left for anything else except for Arthur’s lips, sliding against his own gently, and for his tongue, soft and wet asking for entrance. Something bubbles up and up inside Merlin’s chest and he can’t help but push his fingers through Arthur’s hair and hold on to him. When the wheel stops they stumble outside and Merlin doesn’t remember when Arthur took his hand into his but he doesn’t pull away, instead he squeezes back.

\---

The air flies out of his lungs as his back collides with the door of his apartment. Arthur’s hands are everywhere, warm and soft, as the clouds on a summer day. He fumbles with the knob and gulps in air as the door opens and they move inside. He feels as if his senses have been wrapped up in cotton wool. The mattress sinks under his back and all he can see are Arthur’s eyes and his smile all pink lips and <i>perfectly</i> crooked teeth.

 

He has never let others be completely in control when it came to sex, not even Gwaine. With Arthur it’s as if his world is being turned upside down. He lets himself being pushed down, blocked. He follows Arthur’s movements, the rhythms that Arthur sets up for the both of them. It’s unbelievably good to let himself go with the flow.

Arthur is gentle when he coaxes him open, when he slides inside all strength and precision. Merlin stands on the very edge and when he finally comes he is almost sure that he has already seen those white sparks behind his eyelids, that he has already known the feeling of Arthur coming deep inside of him.

 

He wakes up wrapped in Arthur’s scent. He smiles at the ceiling before turning on one side. Arthur is still sleeping, his features are clear in the morning light. Merlin finds himself thinking that he wants this- whatever it is- to grow, to stay. He feels as if he finally is ready. To think so burns him right to the bones.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin stares at the bottom of his glass, where the last sips of beer is still waiting. Gwaine gently brushes his foot against his leg. Merlin doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to answer to the question that his friend has just asked.

 

“C’mon, has the cat got your tongue?”

 

Merlin lifts his gaze and looks at Gwaine, he takes in his deep eyes and the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Merlin doesn’t want to tell him how it went with Arthur the night before. He shouldn’t have these worries, Gwaine is his best friend and still…still Merlin can’t talk to him about Arthur’s hands and kisses, not when he has had also Gwaine’s, not when they’ve fallen asleep tangled together as he has with Arthur.

 

“It…I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

 

He wishes he didn’t know Gwaine well enough to read the quick flash of pain in his eyes.

\---

To be with Arthur makes the smell of coffee stronger in the mornings and the blankets softer in the evenings. It makes Merlin’s day go by faster and brighter. He has never experienced anything like this, he has never found himself smiling at the feeling of his mobile buzzing in his pocket because he has just gotten a new text. Often they’re just few words, things like “have you managed to set the shop on fire yet?” or “thinking about your mouth.” or “I’m right outside the shop waiting.”

Merlin likes to discover new things about Arthur and he likes even more the fact that most of them feel familiar. It’s as if he has always known that Arthur likes his toast only with butter, or that he likes to be up longer when the stars are clearer in the sky. Somehow it comes easy to find the right words when Arthur is upset because of his father and the work. Somehow he knows that Arthur is precious, that he has gold hidden inside of him. And he wants to treasure it.

 

Months pass and everything seems as it has been at the beginning, shining and new and full of promises. More often than not, Merlin finds himself thinking that he would like to move in with Arthur, he would like to build a future with him. Sometimes he has the sensation that he has already shared a life with Arthur even if it may seem absurd. Arthur seems to fit perfectly in every turn of his life, it’s as if he has always been there.

 

Gwen and Morgana invite them to dinner and once they go on  holiday together. Merlin loves Scotland but he finds out that he loves more the way the wind plays with Arthur’s golden hair as they stand on top of the tower at Doune Castle.

\---

Gwaine is always there, offering his advices and his jokes. They don’t go out together as much as they used to. Merlin cannot deny that he misses it, the warmth of Gwaine’s company, the solidity of his kindness. It’s not as if Arthur has asked him not to see Gwaine; it’s just that Arthur seems to obscure everything else. He is too bright and sucks all other light without effort. Merlin thinks that’s the reason why he feels as if he constantly is on the verge of truly falling in love without any possibility to going back.

\---

 

Once he is spending a lonely Sunday afternoon at home because Arthur is out of town. All the afternoons spent with Gwaine wandering aimlessly along the Thames or laying on the carpet watching movies or playing videogames come to his mind. With Gwaine it has always been like being younger and with the world open in front of them.

Merlin stares at the phone until his eyes hurt. He is about to get up when his ringtone bounces over the cushions of the sofa and over the packet of chips which he has been eating. Merlin grins wider than he has ever done when he reads the small letters on the screen.

 

Half an hour later Gwaine is sitting cross-legged on Merlin’s sofa. He is talking about the latest news at work, about the last time that he and Percy went dancing the week before. It’s as if he has never left his side, and Merlin can’t help but nod and smile and lean slightly against his friend’s shoulder. He tells Gwaine that he is sorry, that he wishes they could have spent more time together. Gwaine chuckles and hugs him tight. He whispers into Merlin’s left ear. “Stop creating yourself non-existent problems, Merlin.”

The dull feeling of longing for Arthur is somehow smoother at the edges.

 

It’s good when Arthur comes back, though. It’s good to open the door and see him standing there, all golden hair and azure eyes. Merlin simply whispers a “welcome back” before dragging him inside. Having Arthur’s skin under his fingertips, feeling his warmth sinking through his own skin, makes Merlin’s insides turn to jelly. He doesn’t count how many times Arthur makes love to him that night. What he knows is that it’s not even <i>enough</i>. Because he always feels as if his body, his spirit- or whatever he has inside- craves Arthur, his proximity and he can’t stop to drink it. He would drink it all, and more.

The morning after he opens his eyes and Arthur is already awake, watching him. Merlin feels a smile bubble to the surface and watches as a twin one blossoms on Arthur’s face.

 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

 

If Merlin didn’t know that hearts cannot summersault he would swear that his heart jumped.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's POV in this chapter and a bit of angst.

 

It’s a few weeks after their first year together. Arthur wakes up all of sudden, outside it’s still dark and his lungs seem not to work well. He tries to be quiet as he disentangles himself from the blankets and pads out of Merlin’s bedroom. The apartment is silent except for the humming of the old fridge. He closes the bathroom door and switches on the light. For a while his brain is not functioning properly and he just stares at his pale face reflected in the mirror. He has let a bit of stubble grow and Merlin hasn’t complained but now that he looks at himself memories of a faraway time when he had that same stubble but a crown on his head fill his mind, pressing against his brain until it hurts.

\---

A  blinding light was floating in the throne room on the day when he was crowned king. The crown was heavy around his skull as the worries and the tension were pooling at the centre of his bones. He stood in front of the court, knowing that he had to force words out of his dry throat. Then his eyes landed on Merlin. He stood beside a column on the right side of the room, behind all the people. He was looking straight at him and Arthur suddenly felt warm and safe under that gaze. Merlin’s eyes were full of pride and affection and a sob stuck in Arthur’s throat, because it was <i>beautiful</i> to know that someone loved him like that, that someone had such a strong connection with him. Arthur could feel the thread which Merlin’s magic had created between them. He could still see in front of his eyes the little red dragon which magic had sewed on Merlin’s skin, right over his heart, just the night before.

Merlin’s lips curved into a smile, “You’ll always be my king.”

Something vaporised inside Arthur’s ribcage. He took a deep breath and started to talk.

\---

It hadn’t been easy to <i>find</i> Merlin, to truly know him, to truly love him. Merlin had always been like the wind, like the sea. Too powerful and too beautiful. It had been hard for Arthur to accept it all, Merlin’s magic and his love for the boy who had been his manservant. But when he finally did, he felt complete as he had never been in his life, as if someone had kissed his heart. To unite Albion, to fight, was somehow easier if he knew that Merlin could always <i>feel</i> him, could always know where he was, could always know how to make him feel loved.

When he died for the first time he didn’t feel sorry because his life was ending; he was sorry because the time to let Merlin go had come.

\---

Arthur grips the white porcelain of the sink. It is cold against his palms and it helps to ease the knot which has formed around his heart. He doesn’t even have the strength to convince himself that he is just hallucinating, that nothing of what he has just seen is true. He closes and opens his eyes as memories come tumbling over his skin. The only thing that keeps him from drowning is the thought that Merlin is there, that he has found<i>his</i> Merlin again. So simply and so casually, in a small book store.

 

He slowly walks back to the bedroom, he doesn’t enter, though. He stands by the door, taking in Merlin’s sleeping form. Arthur thinks that he is as he has always been, all pale skin and angles. It’s weird to feel like this, as if he is falling in love all over again. It amazes him to discover that his love seems to be stronger than time, stronger than history and stronger than destiny.

\---

Arthur rests his head on his hand as he watches Merlin moving around the kitchen. He is wearing an old t-shirt which is too big for him, he seems younger. Arthur wonders what he would do if he knew about all the lives which he has already lived. Merlin turns and flashes him a smile before going back to making coffee. Arthur smiles back but he feels as if he has tons of words stuck in his throat. He knows that he cannot say any of them.

 

He remembers how it went the other times when he had been the first one to remember and had tried to talk to Merlin about it. Merlin’s denial had always been fierce and complete; there had been times when he had been born with magic again and those were the disastrous ones. When all the lights in the house would explode simultaneously or when the sky would become clouded and stormy in the space of few seconds. Every time that Arthur tried to talk to Merlin about their past when Merlin didn’t remember it resulted in the fact that something between them was ruined forever, broken beyond any possibility of repairing it. It scared Arthur to death.

 

When Merlin sits down and pushes a cup of coffee towards him with a questioning look on his face Arthur shrugs and tries to smile before hiding behind the mug.

\---

It’s hard to stay with Merlin, to spend most of his free time with him, when he knows and feels things that he cannot share. Merlin is too important for him, though. So he tries harder, because he can’t afford to let Merlin go when he has been lucky enough to meet him once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin takes a sip from the plastic cup. The back-shop is quiet, the only sounds are Freya’s voice coming from the other room and the muffled sounds of the traffic outside the shop. He keeps the coffee in his mouth for a bit before swallowing it. The pen sinks a bit deeper in the blank page of the Moleskin as he starts to write.

He writes about Arthur a lot, lately. About the way he looks when he wakes up in the morning or the way his eyes become smaller and brighter when he laughs. He also tries to continue a story which he has started months ago- more than a year actually-before meeting Arthur. He finds it weird how much everything seems different now. Things how they used to be seem distant, that omnipresent feeling of longing seems distant, as if Arthur’s hands and kisses have erased it.

\---

Everything is bathing in the azure light of the television as he cracks his eyes open. It takes a while to realise where he is, to process that probably he has fallen asleep while watching a movie with Arthur. He can feel Arthur’s chest rising and falling behind his back. It’s warm and Merlin leans down again.

 

It starts as a soft tingling at the back of his head and then it spreads, along his arms, down to his legs, until he feels as if his whole body is <i>buzzing</i> with it. It’s as if what has kept him warm over the last months has been sucked away. He lays awake searching for it, <i>wanting</i> to find it but it isn’t there anymore, that sense of fullness and completeness. It hurts and confuses him; he feels as if someone is keeping him under water.

 

Arthur squeezes his lightly in his sleep and Merlin feels his heart sink deeper until he is almost sure that it has reached the bottom of his ribcage. He feels like crying, because this time he truly has hoped, because this time he doesn’t want to let go.

\---

He wakes up and he is alone. Arthur has left a small note on the kitchen’s table.

<i>Had to go to work and didn’t want to wake you, dormouse. I’ll call you at lunch break.</i>

Merlin stares at the piece of paper. He needs air, he needs to get out of the house right now.

\---

His feet seem to have moved on their own accord, and he finds himself standing in front of Gwaine’s building almost without realising where he is. The tube ride is just a blur of voices and faces entwined with that feeling of longing which keeps growing and growing. He truly thought that Arthur could be the <i>one</i>, that he didn’t have to wait anymore. He can feel the tears threatening to fall again. He pushes the button of the entry phone. He just has to whisper his name and the door is already opening with a soft buzz.

 

It’s good to see Gwaine, it’s good to feel his arms around him. Merlin lets himself sink into it, he finally feels safe again.

Gwaine has never asked him too many question, he has always taken his time to study Merlin, to understand him without the need of words and explanation. Merlin is grateful for that; he is grateful for the cup of tea that Gwaine makes him and for the gentle hand rubbing soothing lines along his back. It feels a bit like going back to what they were.

\---

When Arthur calls at lunch time as he has promised Merlin doesn’t answer. Gwaine looks at him, one of his brown eyebrows high on his forehead. Merlin simply shrugs and asks him if he feels like having a walk at the South Kensington gardens. Gwaine fakes a sigh smiling gently then gets up and drags Merlin out of the flat.

\---

Merlin sits on the bench waiting for Gwaine to be back with their coffees. He knows well that he is a coward. He should call Arthur back, he should stop running away simply because of a stupid sensation.

He still remembers the shadows in Gwaine’s eyes when he decided that it was better to spilt up, when he first tried to explain him how he was feeling, how that longing didn’t go away when they were together. But Gwaine came back and Merlin knows that that is one of the most precious things in his life.

He smiles at the other man as he hands him a plastic cup filled to the brim with cappuccino.

 

“Here you are, princess.”

 

Gwaine grins and Merlin ignores the fluttering of his heart at the sight. He is confused as hell and he knows that he has to try to stay focused.  Because Arthur is important, even if he is not “the one”, because he is special in that kind of way which makes Merlin feels as if he is always on the edge of discovering a new continent. He has never really, <i>truly</i> fought for someone and he wants to try.

 

“Thanks, mate.”

 

Gwaine’s hand is solid and gentle on his shoulder.

 

“I…I really want this feeling to go away.”

 

“Then you should try, Merl. Or you would regret it.”

 

Merlin turns his head and looks at his friend. He thinks that sometimes he is not sure at all about why he hasn’t gone back to Gwaine over the years. And now it doesn’t make sense to think about it, right?

 

“It’s…it’s good to know that you understand.”

 

Merlin can’t help but lean into the touch of Gwaine’s arm around his shoulders. The coffee seems to be stronger over his tongue.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur looks at his mobile phone silent over the desk. He has never felt so <i>lost</i> in his whole life, or, well, at least in this current lifetime. He doesn’t remember much about the others, though; what he remembers with striking clarity is the first one, the one when he and Merlin met for the first time. That seems to have been carved deeper than all the rest, and that is the one which makes him happier but also the one that hurts the most to remember. Because it is when it all started, when Merlin and he built something which was strong enough to overcome time.

 

He leans back against the chair and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. It’s hard to fight back the desire to tell Merlin everything, the hope that he can remember too, that he can look at him how he used to. He knows that it is stupid, because in the year which he has spent with Merlin he has seen the affection and the care in those blue eyes, but now that he has remembered he can’t help but want to see also recognition in Merlin’s eyes. He wants Merlin to remember their shared destiny too.

 

When the phone rings he almost jumps out of his chair; his heart sinks a bit as he sees Lance’s name on the screen. But maybe it’s better like this, maybe it’s better to not hear Merlin’s voice right now, because it would only make Arthur want to tell him everything.

\---

It goes on like this for days, waiting on the edge. Sometimes Arthur has the sensation that Merlin is slipping away like water through his fingers. The days pass one after the other and all that he gets is Merlin’s voice through the telephone. He sounds so distant, and Arthur can’t help but think that they <i>are</i> more distant now.

He spends his days alone at home or with Lance, his childhood friend. More often than not Arthur actually feels like an abandoned child.

\---

It’s a Sunday morning when he sees Merlin again, and as he spots him waiting in front of the cafeteria Arthur feels as if time itself has stopped, as if the world has gone silent. Merlin seems even more beautiful, even more perfect. He leans back against the wall, his earphones in his ears, humming along the notes of some song.

 

Arthur shivers as memories of a day centuries ago resurface. It was a winter morning, the sky was high and white over Camelot. Arthur was preparing himself for council as Merlin entered his chambers. Arthur didn’t need to turn to know that it was him, it was as if over the years some kind of connection had come to life between them. He could feel his blood <i>buzzing</i> every time that Merlin was close.

He had asked Merlin if it was because of his magic. Merlin had just smiled and kissed him softly. From then on Arthur had preferred to think that it was their love for each other to tie them so close.

That morning Merlin helped him getting dressed even if that hadn’t been his task anymore since when he had become court sorcerer. He adjusted the crown on Arthur’s head humming an old song and Arthur felt safe. Before leaving the room he leaned in and kissed Merlin gently, feeling the magic enveloping the two of them.

 

He stops in front of Merlin who quickly pulls his earphones out of his ears. His smile is soft but there’s something harder in his eyes; Arthur wonders if he is imagining it all. They sit in front of each other, chatting about the week which has passed, about the bookshop and about the few days which Merlin has spent back in his hometown. Arthur looks at Merlin’s long fingers along the cup, at Merlin’s eyes shining over the rim of the cup. It takes all his self-control not to babble about summer days spent in Ealdor together or about the way they used to roll on the grass like puppies when they were out for a hunt just the two of them.


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin collapses on his bed as soon as he gets into his apartment. He stares at the posters which fill up the wall in front of him, from Pulp Fiction to printings of pictures by Hiroshige. He doesn’t seem them, all that he sees are Arthur’s eyes and gentle smile over the mug of cappuccino. He feels like screaming, because he knows that he is going to ruin it all, to ruin one of the best things that he has ever had in his life. He presses the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. He sees starts against the dark and wishes that Gwaine could be there. He feels guilty and confused at the same time. He knows that he loves Arthur, but because of that he can’t stand that the feeling of waiting for <i>someone</i> to arrive still remains. With Gwaine is easier, is <i>different</i>.

\---

He can’t look at Arthur so he stares at the red carpet which covers the floor in Arthur’s living room. Arthur’s hand is warm on his knee and it makes everything more difficult. As he speaks he almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It feels as if he is cutting through something beautiful, as if he is destroying a flower, as if he is making someone cry. It’s hard to explain how he feels, to describe the solid weight at the bottom of his stomach, that feeling of longing which nothing except Gwaine’s hugs seem able to erase.

Arthur listens through it all, he doesn’t say anything. His breath flutters like butterfly’s wings and Merlin feels as if his heart is being squeezed. Every fibre of his being prays that Arthur can understand, that he can accept him, even if he is flawed, even if he seems to always have a small hole at the centre of his soul.

 

Silence swirls around his ankles as he stops to speak, Arthur’s hand retreats like a small wounded animal. Merlin wants to catch it and hold it in place but he knows that he is not allowed to do so.

 

“I…look at me, Merlin.”

 

And Merlin forces himself, because he owes this to Arthur at least. He swallows at the sight of the azure of Arthur’s eyes, so open and broken. For an instant he almost forgets how to breathe.

 

“What…what are you trying to tell me?”

 

Merlin blinks away the tears and forces the words out of his mouth even if he is feeling as if he is drowning.

 

“Arthur…I…It isn’t something which I can control, it’s…I just feel as if something is missing and…it’s killing me because you…you are…”

 

Arthur’s hand comes up in front of his face and Merlin stops, the words crashing over his tongue. More silence stretches between them, then Arthur gets up and turns his back to him. He is shaking slightly and Merlin feels as if the couch is trying to swallow him. His legs are heavy as he gets up too.

 

“Arthur…”

 

“I don’t want to hear it…I…It’s clear that I’m not enough for you…it’s clear that you won’t remember…”

 

Arthur’s quiet sobs seem to echo right through him and Merlin can’t stop the tears from forming in his own eyes. But what does Arthur mean? What he won’t remember?

 

“Arthur, what…”

 

“Please, get out. <i>Please</i>”

 

Merlin would like to press a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, to make him turn, to look into his eyes. Instead he lets the tears stream down his cheeks and exits the apartment.

 

Outside it’s raining. Merlin walks right into the water pouring down, he doesn’t turn to see if Arthur is standing by the window, watching him walking away. He heads straight for the tube, his heart feeling smaller than ever in his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

Gwaine lives in a small apartment in Islington. Even if he earns enough to rent a bigger flat he prefers not to, so that he can send more money back home to his mother and his younger sister. Merlin’s legs move automatically, following the path towards that small flat, the only place where the cold of the rain and of the regret cannot reach him.

Gwaine’s arms are strong around him as Merlin hides his face against his friend’s chest. That night it hurts to think that the following day Arthur won’t call him, that Arthur won’t be there anymore. But Gwaine is there, his chest against Merlin’s back as he sleeps and Merlin squeezes his eyes shut and lets the darkness come.

\---

It’s natural to spend most of his time with Gwaine after that day. His smiles and jokes and hugs manage to make Merlin feel less like a monster for having left Arthur like that and more like a human being. He knows that he didn’t have any chance; he couldn’t stay with Arthur with that feeling building up. It hurt to have inside of him both the deepest love he has ever felt and that feeling of missing something or someone.

 

It’s natural to kiss back when one night, after having watched a particular crappy movie, Gwaine leans forward and presses his lips against Merlin’s. They’re familiar and gentle and Merlin doesn’t feel like pushing away. He lets Gwaine’s hand guide him, pull him up from the couch and lead him into the bedroom. The moment his back hits the mattress something trembles inside of him.

Making love with Gwaine is how it was years ago, all heat and gentleness mixed up and Merlin finds himself completely defenceless ; he doesn’t even try to keep his moans from spilling out over the mattress around them.

\---

It doesn’t feel wrong to wake up beside Gwaine, as it doesn’t feel wrong to slip into old and safe habits. Sometimes, when they’re together, when the sun splashes over Gwaine’s hair, Merlin thinks that maybe he is in love with him; because love means feeling safe and perpetually warm, right? But there are times, usually at night, when he lays in bed before falling asleep, when all he can think about is Arthur. In those moments he feels as if someone has just opened a hole right at the centre of his soul, a hole which doesn’t heal and just remains there even though he tries to cover it up with Gwaine’s caresses. However he pushes it all deep down- <i>buries</i> it- and keeps going on. Days stretch into weeks and weeks into months. Many times Merlin finds himself walking near Arthur’s flat, but he never stops. Many times he finds himself staring at his mobile phone, but he never calls.

\---

It has been three months and Merlin almost thinks that he can make it for real, to leave memories of Arthur behind, because even though he could have fallen in love with him- even though he <i>had</i> fallen in love with him- he wouldn’t have been able to share his life with Arthur having that sense of void hidden inside. Then one day Merlin is lazily sitting at the counter, looking outside of the window at the people passing by. A flash of gold blurs his vision as Arthur passes by talking with a man, whom Merlin imagines must be Lance. It’s like falling without a parachute.

 

Merlin doesn’t call Gwaine when his shift is over; he wants to, though, to be saved once again. But what he has felt, what he still feels, for Arthur is simply too much, it slips in between him and Gwaine and Merlin knows that he can’t hold onto what his friend can or wants to give him anymore.

He has never felt so lost and he has never felt so lonely.

Once again Gwaine is understanding when one day Merlin takes his hand while they’re sitting on the sofa watching some old movie and tells him that it can’t go on between them. Merlin feels bad at the thought that Gwaine has learnt so well to shield himself because of all the uncertainty that Merlin has always given to him. He almost wishes that he could avoid all of this, giving the only person who has always been by his side all this pain. But there’s something, deep inside of him like a stone at the bottom of a lake, which whispers to him that this is not what he is supposed to do, that this is not his <i>destiny</a>. Merlin has never believed in destiny but he finds himself following what that small voice says.

 

Day after day he hates waking up. It’s as if his body is becoming heavier, buzzing with anxiety and the desire to go back to something that he doesn’t even know. Sometimes he opens his eyes and almost feels as if Arthur is lying by his side but he is never there. It’s just a ghost sensation, like when you lose an arm, like when you lose a part of yourself, because that’s what has happened. Merlin is more certain of it with every day that passes.

 

It’s a rainy night when it happens. Merlin is alone at home. He doesn’t have Arthur anymore; he doesn’t want to hurt Gwaine more than he has already done and simply he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. So he lies on his bed, listening to the silence filling the room, filling him up until he wants to cry because of how lonely he feels, because of how he misses Arthur. It has never happened to him to miss someone so much, to feel as if the absence is squeezing the air out of his lungs and slowing his heart rate. All of sudden Merlin truly wishes that he could go back, that he could simply erase the last months, that he could live and love without that constant feeling of emptiness following his emotions like a shadow.

 

Tears are beginning to form in his eyes when a flash of light sparkles in a corner of the room. Merlin blinks. Probably it was only lightening considering that outside it’s still raining. He sighs as the knot which has been tight inside his chest comes loosen and tears stream down his face.

 

Suddenly there is a loud cracking sound as the light bulb of the lamp on his bedside table breaks. The sound of all the light-bulbs in the flat exploding fills the air and, startled, Merlin jumps to his feet, his eyes blurred by the tears.

 

Maybe people who are drowning feel like this. He opens his mouth but it’s as if no air is entering his lungs; his head spins and all he can think of is running and hiding somewhere safe. He feels as if he is buzzing with electricity. He finally gathers enough courage to exit his room; the floor of the corridor is covered in shattered pieces of glass as is the floor of every other room in the flat. There’s not a single light-bulb that is still intact.  Before he realizes what he is doing, Merlin is running out of the door.

 

The rain falls hard over him, soaking his clothes and making him shiver. In the Tube people glance at him with worried looks but he finds that he doesn’t care; he grips the pole tighter and counts the stops. Time seems to flow slower than usual; when the train reaches the right stop he almost runs out of the car and up the stairs. Only when he is in front of Arthur’s door does he hesitate, breathing heavy, his hands clasped into fists at his sides. Then he takes a deep shaky breath and presses the doorbell. He doesn’t even have the time to wonder if what he is doing is right because Arthur opens the door and the moment his eyes land on him. Merlin feels something surging inside of him and all he manages to do is sob before everything around him goes black.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur passes a hand through his hair as he gazes at Merlin’s pale face. His heart still isn’t working properly after somersault it did when he opened the door and saw the other man standing in front of him, clothes soaked and dark hair stuck to his forehead because of the rain. Thunders roll outside as the minutes pass and Arthur has to use all of his self-control not to shake Merlin awake to ask what the _hell_ he is doing here, after months of silence.

 

When Merlin stirs on the couch, though, the blond man is so afraid of the answers that he could get that he almost hopes that Merlin won’t wake up. After few more seconds a pair of blue eyes open. Arthur remains silent and watches as Merlin blinks. Merlin turns and their gazes meet; they don’t say anything for a while. The silence is heavy around them, like a stone, Arthur could swear that he can hear his own bones cracking under the weight of it.

 

After what seem like hours, finally Merlin averts his gaze; Arthur can feel anger bubbling up inside his chest, burning. He takes a deep breath but he already knows that it won’t be enough to calm him down, not when Merlin is sitting there in silence, not when his mere presence brings with it the memories of a time when they were together, when they were bound so tightly that it physically hurt to be apart. He can’t stand to be around Merlin any more if he can’t have that back. At first he had thought that he could but now, after the pain of the loss has carved a hole right at the centre of his soul, he is sure that he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

 

“What…”

 

“Arthur…”

 

They look at each other, surprised. Arthur is about to tell Merlin to continue talking for God’s sake, when he notices that Merlin’s hands are trembling and that his pupils are blown wide, looking like dark wells. He can’t stop himself and moves to sit beside the other man. Taking a deep breath he covers Merlin’s right hand with his own. It’s like a punch to the stomach, the feeling of Merlin’s skin. For months, he has wanted nothing more than touch him again, to know that he was real, to hope that they could go back to what they used to be, when he was a prince who had fallen in love with his manservant.

 

“Merlin…talk to me.”

 

He shivers when Merlin turns his hand up so that their palms are touching. Merlin doesn’t look at him when he starts to speak. Arthur listens to him talking about what has happened back at his flat and tries his best to crush down the stupid hope that becomes stronger and stronger with every word.

 

This has already happened, many times. He remembers himself sitting beside a confused and scared Merlin, but he also remember all too well the times when Merlin’s magic had broken free and Merlin’s denial had been so fierce that it almost hurt. There had been times when, after those episodes, they had never talked to each other again and Arthur had been left with years to spend alone with the memories of their past lives pushing behind the closed doors of his heart.

 

Sometimes he had managed to move ahead enough to find someone else and to try to build a new life for himself without Merlin in it, but sometimes he hadn’t been strong enough.

 

There is a part of himself, the one that has suffered so many times in the past, praying that this would be one of those times when they look at each other and all they see is the love that has kept them tied over the centuries. He doesn’t have the courage to look at Merlin in the eyes, though, even when the other man finishes his story and remains silent. The energy comes from Merlin’s thin body in waves, Arthur feels as if he is bathing in electricity and he remembers the sensation, the one he felt deep in his bones every time his court sorcerer’s eyes flashed gold.

 

Merlin tightens the grip on his hand, as if he wants to call for Arthur’s attention and he finally turns to look at him. He is sure that he has never been so afraid in his current lifetime. Merlin’s gaze is glued to him and Arthur starts to shake as the other man’s blue eyes turn gold. Arthur feels as if he wants to cry, because he remembers all the shades of that gold, he remembers how hard it had been the first time that he had discovered Merlin’s magic, and how wonderful it had been to make love to him surrounded by the energy which Merlin carried inside of himself.

 

The objects around the room start to move, books fall from the shelves and lamps go crashing onto the floor, but Arthur doesn’t care; he holds Merlin’s hand tighter, as if it was the only thing that can stop him from falling into the void. Then, as it has arrived, the magic goes away, the world stills around the two of them and the only sound in the room is Merlin’s ragged breathing. A tear rolls down his cheek, followed by another and then another. It hurts to see Merlin’s pain. It’s almost as if Arthur can feel it inside his very bones, as it was in their first lifetime, as it happened on the day when Arthur died for the first time and what he felt wasn’t the pain of his wounds, but the pain in Merlin’s heart, bigger than the sky and deeper than any sea.

 

Arthur finds that he can’t stop his own tears, because this isn’t how he wants things to be. He wants them to be happy, he n _eeds_ them to be happy as he knows they have been. He doesn’t even try to stop himself from hugging Merlin; he hides his face in the other man’s hair and lets the other man’s proximity, the familiar lines of his body, calm him.

 

Everything might end here, they might look at each other and there won’t be any recognition in Merlin’s eyes.

 

They remain like that for a while, holding onto each other, their tears sinking into each other’s clothes. Then Merlin’s hands are on his chest, gently pushing him away and Arthur realises that this is going to be the moment when their current lifetime is decided, as it has happened  over and over again throughout the centuries.

 

He slowly disentangles himself and lifts his gaze; Merlin’s eyes seem to shine. Arthur opens his mouth because he has to say something to break the silence, because he is sure that his heart can’t bear it anymore and it’s going to be shattered into pieces soon. But Merlin’s fingers are on his lips, gently pressing against them.

 

“Arthur…”

 

One word is enough.

 

He remembers how back in Camelot Merlin used to call him by his given name despite the court etiquette and how at first it had being unsettling but then it had quickly become something that he was happy about. He remembers the first time he had kissed Merlin and the other boy had whispered his name as if it were precious. He remembers the first time Merlin moaned his name, the sound getting lost among the leaves of the trees surrounding them.

 

He snaps out of it as Merlin traces the contours of his lips with his finger. He has a concentrated look on his face, as if he’s trying very hard to remember something.

 

“God, Arthur…you’re…it’s really _you_.”

 

Arthur can feel something exploding inside of him, overflowing everywhere. There is no longer space for thoughts, though; Merlin’s lips against his own are the only thing that matters now. To think that finally is the two of them again, as they have been over and over in time, is overwhelming. Arthur actually thinks that his heart is going to burst because of all the love and the relief he is feeling. They stumble towards the bedroom trying not to put distance between their lips and their bodies; Arthur feels as if he is floating.

 

*

 

It’s as if he is truly feeling Arthur for the first time; behind every sigh and every touch, behind every whispered “Merlin” there are all the lifetimes they have spent together, all the feelings they’ve been piling up over the centuries. Now Merlin remembers that it has been like this every time that they’ve managed to remember each other. There are the same butterflies twirling around in his stomach.

 

It takes Merlin’s breath away to look up from the bed and s _ee_ Arthur; he can see the stubborn and generous prince with whom he had fallen in love, as he has done so many times before, finding his love in Arthur’s eyes. He wants to thank God or whoever is up there for having made it possible for them to keep searching and eventually finding each other.

 

In between kisses and touches and whispered promises, he feels like crying when he realizes the sensation of loss and longing is no longer there; it’s as if a hole has been filled. And he knows that it won’t be back, not now that he has remembered Arthur, not now that he can have Arthur’s hands and lips and love until they both grow old.

 

As Arthur slowly opens him up, Merlin lets his magic run free; he lets it slide over their naked bodies and over their hearts. When Arthur finally enters him, Merlin whispers those words, because finally he knows that they are the t _ruth_ , that they always will be.

 

 _“I love you.”_

The End

\---

The Space Between

What's wrong and right

Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you

The Space Between

Your heart and mine

Is the space we'll fill with time

 

“The space between”, Dave Matthews Band

 

 

 

 


End file.
